I Know The Meaning Of Sacrifice
by Lady Addiction
Summary: On Touya Akira's thoughts the night before the fateful tournament match against Haze Jr. High. (Complete, one-shot)


I KNOW THE MEANING OF SACRIFICE

_(A "Hikaru no Go" Fanfic)_

_by Lady Addiction_

_DISCLAIMERS:  Much as I'd love to claim Obata-san's drawing skills and Hotta-san's storyboarding talent, I can't.  Well, I do hope I do their work justice with this ficlet._

_A/N:  Oh my goodness!  There are a lot more Akari fans or sympathizers out there than I would have assumed!  Thanks so very much for the lovely, lovely reviews on "Standing By The Wayside"!  I was afraid that I'd only get one or two!  All of y'all are aces in my book.  And mostly because you guys were so positive about my entry into HnG fandom, this fic was created.  _

_Another character piece, exploring Touya Akira's feelings prior to the famous third-board Junior High Go tournament between Kaiou and Haze Junior High.  Some of the events never happened in the manga or anime._

_Okay, Akira might be OOC here.  And yes, this is melancholy again---what can I say, I write melancholy character fics.  =)  Also, this was rushed, very much so, as I was inspired and excited by the reviews from my last fic.  I hope I don't disappoint._

WARNING:  Spoilers for volume 2, 3, & 18 of the manga, as well as the matching anime episodes (which for the life of me I can't quite remember the numbers).  

Manga translations are thanks to persistent efforts of the staff at Toriyama's World.  Some of the lines were paraphrased for a smoother flow.

_ENJOY!_

@~@~@

It is not the critic who counts.  Not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done better.  The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause.  Who, at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat."

- Theodore Roosevelt (1858-1919), 

26th President of the United States

There he was.

Shindou Hikaru.

Touya Akira retreated into another room.  He stood next to a wooden desk, one hand flat on the desktop, the other fisted at his chest.  His heart was racing and his stomach was twisting in anticipation.  Nervousness.  Excitement.

Fear.

_:Finally, I'm facing him once more.:_

@~@~@

{"Shindou, why are you in a middle school Go club?  Why haven't you come to the Go salon?  I am waiting for you."

"Hah!  I don't need to play a loser like you, Touya!"}

Touya Akira jolted upright in his futon, clutching his head.  Chest heaving, he closed his eyes, still hearing that imaginary Shindou's cruel, cruel laughter.  A nightmare.  He knew that had never happened.  Shindou had simply refused to face him in front of a goban anymore when he came by Haze Junior High that afternoon.  There was no mockery, no laughter, no insults.

Simply a "I won't play with you anymore, Touya".

Somehow, knowing that didn't make him feel any better.

:Tomorrow, Shindou.  Tomorrow, we'll be opponents once again.  I have accepted your challenge.:

Touya opened his eyes and rubbed at them with his pajama sleeves, heart rate back down to steady, regular beats.  However, he was now wide-awake.  He looked at his bedside alarm clock.  2:00 AM blinked the LED display.  

He stood up, pushing aside his blankets and pillows.  His room was a good-sized one, with a futon, a study desk with bookshelves, a large closet and chest of drawers, a full-length mirror stand, and an expensive goban set made of kaya wood with crushed-clamshell stones.  Akira smiled as he knelt beside the set.  This had been his father's gift for him when he turned ten.  Before then, he had been using a cheap board and plastic stones.  It was a sign of his father's pride and acknowledgment of him as a Go player.

Akira stood up and walked to the open window.  Placing his hands on the sill, he leaned out slightly, breathing in the fresh cool night air.  The streets were mostly empty and dark, with a few spots of light from the streetlamps and the street-facing windows.  Every so often, a car whizzed by, probably some workaholic on the way home.

His thoughts wandered as he recalled that first meeting with Shindou.  His initial impression was to wonder at why such a loud and boisterous boy would come into a Go salon.  He seemed typical of their age, more given towards video games, sports, and hanging out with friends.  Many of the children Akira had met with a passion for Go were all mostly quiet and intellectual, displaying humor in more subdued manners.  

Sitting across from him, Akira was caught by the cheerful glitter of those green eyes.  Green eyes, like his own.  So focused on the game clumsily played by a beginner's hands.

Which didn't prevent Akira from seeing the power behind the moves, from realizing that he had unwittingly been drawn into a game of shidougo.

Akira shook his head as he recalled his shock when he confirmed that realization after his surprising opponent had long since left and he had replayed the game by himself.  A teaching game from another sixth-grader!  If the results weren't so conclusive of Shindou's incredible strength, he would have been mortified.  Akira was, after all, the primary Go tutor in his father's Go salon, routinely playing shidougo against men more than three times his age.

He knew that he had badly underestimated Shindou when they first played.  He did not do so the second time around.

Still he lost.

It was exhilarating.  Frightening.

Like freefalling from a great height.

He closed his eyes, leaning further out of the window, hands securely on the sill.  That second game was no teaching game.  He remembered that paralyzing wash of fear and excitement as every single move he made was countered deftly.  The chest-thumping ordeal of having to rack his brains to come up with something to cut through his opponent's territory and secure his own.  And, finally, that excruciating pain of a crushing defeat.

He'd been bowed, but unbroken.  The very next day, he was eager for a rematch.  Another chance to do better than he did before.  His father had remarked upon his enthusiasm and determination on breakfast that day.  Akira had ducked his head and blushed in happiness.

It reminded him of Ashiwara-san's words just before he first met Shindou:  "Because there's nobody near Akira's age that could become his rival in the Go world, that makes things really boring."  It was true, Akira had never played another boy his age who he could not easily defeat.  Even against the so-called 'Child-Meijin Tournament Champion', a boy whose name he forgot so soon after the disappointing game, he had still won the match with little effort.

Only after the second game with Shindou did he realize a profound truism in the world of Go:  Go is played by two people.

The Hand of God, that one perfect game, can never be achieved by just one person.  It was the culmination of two dedicated players' passion for the game, the sum of all their efforts since they first laid down a stone back in the very beginning.

Now Touya Akira finally had a partner.

A Rival.

Someone who can help him achieve the Hand of God.

The thought of being able to play with an equal was of immeasurable value.  For that, there was no price too high.  He sacrificed his personal pride and that of his father's to follow Shindou's footsteps and step into Kaiou Junior High's Igo Club.  For the first time, he ignored his father's warning that a game against Akira could destroy another child's budding potential for the game.  

After throwing that away, the members' hostility and awe were of no consequence.  He would finally be able to play against Shindou once more---that was worth everything.

He had to think that, especially after those 'blind' Go games.  The games which showed him just exactly how much some of the club members hated his presence, and how far they were willing to go to drive him out.

Akira had spent that afternoon alone in his room, silently crying as he replayed old games like an automaton.  He was, at the end of the day, only a child.  And as much as he didn't want to admit it, he wanted his peers' approval and support.  

He wanted their friendship.

The next day, Akira came back, determined to ignore them and focus on Shindou.  Shindou was all that mattered, after all, not their whispers, nor their stares, nor their actions.  Only Shindou.

As if he had not surrendered enough for this one game, he was met with the announcement that he would play first-board.  Not third-board.  Not against Shindou.

Whatever shred of pride and self-respect he had left he threw to the winds as he publicly begged for the Igo Club teacher, Yun-sensei, to make him third-board.  Nothing mattered, only Shindou and that one perfect game.

He won.  And it was a bitter and reluctant surrender reflected in Yun-sensei's dark eyes.  It was not only Akira's pride that matters, but the school's pride as the champion, the leader, the one who set and maintained the trends and traditions in the Junior High Go world.  A strategy wherein their strongest player is the third board would be looked upon as a dirty and underhanded scheme for a three-board victory.  Only the poorest player played third-board.  By the time of the tournament, it would be impossible for the rest of the schools to change their own arrangements.  It was a totally unnecessary strategy and would only be seen as a sign of Kaiou's contempt and disdain for its contemporaries.

To Akira, this too was inconsequential.

The Hand of God demanded sacrifices.  It was meaningless, otherwise.

"Tomorrow, Shindou.  I am waiting for you," he whispered against the night air, feeling it cool his cheeks.  Akira left the window and headed back to his bed.  He couldn't afford to be tired and drowsy tomorrow.

"The Hand of God . . . Shindou . . . together . . ." Softly murmured as the young boy slowly drifted off to sleep.

@~@~@

Now the time was at hand.  Here he was, one door away from the room that will soon see whether he had sacrificed enough.  Akira seriously doubted that he would win---Shindou's strength was phenomenal---but even in losing, a game between high-level rivals was heart-stopping.

To be able to cry like that former Kaiou captain did in last year's tournament, defeated by Shindou's shining Go.  

That makes everything worth it.

Akira straightened up, hands coming down to his side.  Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, he steadied himself and marched into the tournament room.

"Aa, I'm so excited!  I wonder who's Kaiou's third-board?" He heard Shindou ask when he came in.

Another deep breath and a step forward.  "I am," Akira challenged, green eyes aglow as he stared upon his nemesis.  

"Kaiou's third-board is me, Shindou."

-OWARI- 


End file.
